‘Cathartic violence’: why Kill Bill: Volume 1 is my feelgood movie

10 hours ago 11

Having older siblings had its upsides. The main one being I had early access to the very best age-inappropriate titles – my brother and sister loved films and our towering DVD collection was a sight to behold. While I can’t remember my exact age when I first watched Kill Bill: Volume 1, I was young, probably too young, and it was awesome.

Unlike most other films I’m fond of that tend to be endlessly quotable, there’s only one line from Kill Bill, emanating from a particularly repugnant character, that I’ve always recalled with clarity (“my name is Buck and I’m here to …” hazard a guess). What is unforgettable is its banging soundtrack and striking imagery – that bright yellow tracksuit splashed in ketchup-red blood – and the dizzying, stylised action that whisks me away from whatever mundane obstacle I’m facing and into a fantastical tale of revenge.

In my early viewings of the movie, Quentin Tarantino’s cinematic language was fresh territory. Released in 2003, Kill Bill: Volume 1 is primarily inspired by the 1973 samurai movie Lady Snowblood, but its rich palette borrows from across Asian and western cinema, with nods to films including The Good, the Bad and the Ugly; Miller’s Crossing; and Citizen Kane, as well as more pronounced references to Bruce Lee movies, exploitation films and Japanese action flicks.

Though the timeline hops around a little, the plot is simple: a pregnant bride, played by a magnetic Uma Thurman, is beaten virtually to death in a chapel in El Paso, Texas, while her groom and modest wedding party are gunned down.

This is the work of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad, a formidable gang of trained killers played by Lucy Liu, Daryl Hannah, Vivica A Fox and Michael Madsen, led by a mysterious gravelly voiced head honcho named Bill (the late David Carradine). Lying bloody on the ground as a faceless Bill cocks his pistol, the bride begins to tell Bill that her baby is his. Bill silences her with a shot to the head.

But the bride survives. Four years later she wakes up in hospital to find that she’s lost her child. We soon learn that her plan is to exact revenge on her attempted murderers, and that “The Bride” is not to be underestimated. As a matter of fact, she’s a warrior who will go to the ends of the earth to have her bloody satisfaction. She writes a list of five names in felt-tip pen and jets off to Okinawa, Japan, to collect a custom-made samurai sword. Is it a spoiler if I tell you that everyone on her list has another thing coming?

It may not be your classic cosy watch, but Kill Bill provides me with that warm, fuzzy feeling only cathartic violence can bring.

Imagine if you could write the names of everyone who had ever wronged you and promptly open a can of whoop-ass on them all? And nothing can stop Thurman’s laser-focused killer on her mission, not a hilariously huge crew of goons in the form of the Crazy 88, not the rule of law – nor the laws of physics. Without any explanation, she acquires a bright yellow motorbike, a matching bike suit and she gets her katana through Tokyo airport security, no questions asked. Her hair often looks immaculate. And so what? I’m happy for her.

On that note, each time I rewatch Kill Bill, I am always shocked to find that, in the context of its stylised cartoonishness, its portrayal of female characters stands up to scrutiny. Though inevitably subject to Tarantino’s male gaze, these women are central to the action – they’re killers, fixers, bodyguards – who prove themselves to be just as cool-headed and adept as any man, more so even.

It’s uniquely satisfying then, what follows when they are objectified or underestimated, which they routinely are. When Liu’s Yakuza boss O-Ren Ishii has her authority questioned by a subordinate member of her crime council, she gracefully slices off his head. When Thurman awakes from her coma, she damn near bites off the face of a man about to sexually attack her and uses a door to smash in the skull of the hospital worker who orchestrated it.

Even the Texas ranger who arrives at the scene of the El Paso shooting comments on how the bride – a potential murder victim – is a “goddamn good looking gal” and “a little blood-splattered angel”. She surprises him when she huffs in her unconscious state, revealing that she’s still alive, splattering blood in his face. The reality is that women are rarely afforded such opportunities to get even. And so, while this Kill Bill: Volume 1 may have been built as an homage to film designed purely to entertain, it also grants a deliciously twisted form of wish-fulfilment, one that I’m always happy to indulge in.